"Kings and Queen" is a bloated French drama that rambles on for an interminable two hours and thirty-two minutes to no discernible point or purpose.
The film features two stories that seem unrelated at first but which eventually connect with one another about halfway through the movie. The first centers around Nora and her struggles with various men in her life, including an elderly father who discovers he has only a few days left to live. The other story involves a young man named Ismael, a violinist who finds himself placed - unfairly, he believes - in a mental institution through the machinations of an unknown third party. After traveling along on separate tracks for awhile, these two narrative strands eventually come together when we learn that Ismael is a former lover of Nora's and the man she has chosen to adopt her son from an earlier, tragic relationship.
With a bit more focus and a considerable amount of streamlining, "Kings and Queen" might have been a potent, engrossing drama about modern day relationships. It certainly has moments of tremendous insight and emotional power, and the performances are, for the most part, complex and touching. But, taken as a whole, the film meanders and maunders to such an extent that, quite frankly, it begins to wreak havoc on our patience and to wear out its welcome early on. Even more distressing is the fact that, even though we spend what seems like a mild eternity in the company of these people, we really don't know quite what to make of any of them when the show is finally over. For instance, Nora's father, on his deathbed, writes a withering diatribe against his daughter's character that simply doesn't gibe with the woman we've been looking at for well over two hours. Nora is admittedly no Mother Theresa (then, again, who is?), but she certainly doesn't deserve the invective thrown at her by her very own father. Nora could be accused of being confused, indecisive, a bit self-absorbed at times, but evil enough to have her father wishing he could give her his cancer and make her die in his place? I don't think so.
Perhaps this film is simply operating at a level of depth that I was unable to fathom. But my suspicion is that even writer Roger Bohbot and co-writer/director Arnaud Desplechin would have trouble fully explaining their purpose here. This is a well acted, pretentious bore of a film that takes the viewer on a long, rambling voyage through a sea of personal crises, a journey that leaves him no wiser or more enlightened at the end than he was at the beginning.
The film features two stories that seem unrelated at first but which eventually connect with one another about halfway through the movie. The first centers around Nora and her struggles with various men in her life, including an elderly father who discovers he has only a few days left to live. The other story involves a young man named Ismael, a violinist who finds himself placed - unfairly, he believes - in a mental institution through the machinations of an unknown third party. After traveling along on separate tracks for awhile, these two narrative strands eventually come together when we learn that Ismael is a former lover of Nora's and the man she has chosen to adopt her son from an earlier, tragic relationship.
With a bit more focus and a considerable amount of streamlining, "Kings and Queen" might have been a potent, engrossing drama about modern day relationships. It certainly has moments of tremendous insight and emotional power, and the performances are, for the most part, complex and touching. But, taken as a whole, the film meanders and maunders to such an extent that, quite frankly, it begins to wreak havoc on our patience and to wear out its welcome early on. Even more distressing is the fact that, even though we spend what seems like a mild eternity in the company of these people, we really don't know quite what to make of any of them when the show is finally over. For instance, Nora's father, on his deathbed, writes a withering diatribe against his daughter's character that simply doesn't gibe with the woman we've been looking at for well over two hours. Nora is admittedly no Mother Theresa (then, again, who is?), but she certainly doesn't deserve the invective thrown at her by her very own father. Nora could be accused of being confused, indecisive, a bit self-absorbed at times, but evil enough to have her father wishing he could give her his cancer and make her die in his place? I don't think so.
Perhaps this film is simply operating at a level of depth that I was unable to fathom. But my suspicion is that even writer Roger Bohbot and co-writer/director Arnaud Desplechin would have trouble fully explaining their purpose here. This is a well acted, pretentious bore of a film that takes the viewer on a long, rambling voyage through a sea of personal crises, a journey that leaves him no wiser or more enlightened at the end than he was at the beginning.